If my head is a snow globe
and figures frozen in time
are all I can keep,
are all that will last in the end,
then when you and I fade away
we’ll always be dancing.

Like museum scenes we’ll stand,
other eras surrounding,
all those who turned into wax,
all the ones who turned into
somebodies I don’t know.

The man who was young
when he bought me a ring,
before he knew we couldn’t
grow up ’til we said goodbye-
he and I, in our underwear,
will always be playing Nintendo.

The man who was lost
when I found his heart,
when we’d hide from the truth
of an ugly world behind dumpsters,
there he and I will stay,
shooting milk cartons
with our slingshots.

The man who understood
what my pen tried to say,
tucked into a cabin
with the snow falling down,
so calmly I’ll always be
writing him
and he’ll always be painting me.

And you, the man who
I hardly knew, took my hand and
brought a reckless, lively joy
in your temporary wake-
you who were a gamble
that bloomed for me
under colored, flashing lights-
though others come
take their place in my snow globe head,
you and I will remain,
always dancing.